


Amortentia

by saynototheflow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts, Love Potion/Spell, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saynototheflow/pseuds/saynototheflow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you cost Slytherin points because of a failed potion of all things? A personal tutoring from none other than Draco Malfoy: Prince of Slytherin himself.</p><p>~~~~~~<br/>I don't own any characters, photos, or depictions from the world of Harry Potter.<br/>All rights go their creators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Potato Practice

You practice how to manoeuvre your wand by toying with your fork in your mashed potatoes. Wingardium Leviosa. You think to yourself as you refresh your swish and flick—if only Potions could be as easy as Charms class. Frankly, after the yelling Snape gave you today in Potions because of a failed amortentia, it’s no wonder you’re playing with your food instead of eating. Petrificus Totalus. As you pretend to paralyze your potatoes, you sense someone watching you. Your throat tightens as you close your eyes—you should have guessed: costing Slytherin ten points is just about the last way to make friends in your house. Taking a deep breath, you drop your fork and look up, trying to pinpoint who exactly is staring at you.

When you spot who it is, you feel as though you were your potatoes after you cast Petrificus Totalus. Staring at you unblinkingly is none other than Draco Malfoy: Prince of Slytherin, master of Potions, and the last person you want on your bad side. Try as you might, you end up breaking eye contact first and when you do, you can’t help but grab your belongings and dash out of the Great Hall as quickly as you can. Who knows what terrible things the known bully of Hogwarts would do with the only Slytherin with in his year who lost house points? As you sprint, you hear distant murmurs as Draco’s friends wonder why he was staring at you, but you don’t stay long enough to hear Draco’s no doubt belittling comments.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), wait up!” Hermione Granger—excelling in every subject, Gryffindor, one of Draco Malfoy’s number 1 enemies, and coincidentally, one of your best friends—and the witch who called you. Just as you pass the giant doors, you screech to a halt, waiting for your friend and trying to formulate an excuse why you left.

“(Y/n)….” Hermione pants, holding onto her knees out of exhaustion. “Where are you…going…?”

“What? Oh, me? I’m…um…just…going to practice making amortentia. I don’t want a repeat of today. Or worse….” You add with a smile and a dramatic pause. “A howler.” Hermione shakes her head and laughs, but she seems to have regained her breath without all the worry that made her chase you in the first place.

“No, we certainly wouldn’t want that. You know, if you need help with anything, you can always ask. After all, you’re the only reason I understood that spell….”

“Oh, please.” You jokingly roll your eyes, but smile reassuringly. “It was an advanced spell and you would have gotten it in less than a week.” Hermione opens her mouth as if to argue, but you keep going. “Besides, the only way to get good at Potions is by practicing a lot. It could take hours….”

“Besides,” A familiar voice responds from behind you and you instantly stiffen. “She’s already got a Potions partner, haven’t you, (y/n)?”

“I….” You try to respond, but nothing else comes out all the while Hermione stares at you as though you’re being kidnapped.

“Come now, we wouldn’t want to keep the classroom waiting.” Draco adds, smirking as he grabs you by your wrist and leads you towards Potions class.


	2. Dungeon Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Draco Malfoy expects dragging you to the dungeons will be easy then he's got another thing coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had SO many technical difficulties! Geez, I'm so sorry for taking so long and that this one might not be as smooth as the last one? Especially because I don't have a beta and I finished this past 1 a.m. Oh well! Sorry this took so long! I'll try to update more often! Thanks so much for the support, everyone <3

As Draco drags you down the stairs, you start to gather your senses. An awful lot of Slytherins—among other houses—would be jealous of you right now. After all, being dragged to a dark room with the notorious Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly common, but neither were these circumstances. Losing a few points in other houses might get you ignored or scolded, but in Slytherin: house of the cunning and ambitious? Well, let’s just say that whatever Draco has in mind isn’t going to be fun—especially after you were talking to one of the Golden Trio. Digging your feet into the ground, you pull on his arm until he stops to face you.

“Listen, I know I messed up today, but I really was going to practice. It won’t happen again and I’ll….” You pause to think of a good enough excuse for him to let you go. “I’ll try harder in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’ll earn enough points to make up for this in a week—tops.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Draco asks you, his eyes darting across your face, making you lose all the confidence you once had. Angry Draco you can handle—you’re not fond of him that way, but you can handle it. When he’s quiet and questioning in a situation where he’s supposed to be angry? That makes you clench your teeth as you struggle to maintain eye contact—you refuse to be the first to look away this time.

“Get what?” Your voice is fainter than you’d like, but at least you’re maintaining eye contact—a feat that isn’t easy when Draco’s entire focus is on you. The edges of Draco’s mouth twitches and if you hadn’t hurt your house’s reputation, you might have claimed he smiled.

“Who is the best student in our Potions class?” He asks and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Aside from Granger.” He adds with a spiteful tone that you can’t tell if it’s directed at you or Hermione.

“You are.” You answer, looking around, and half expect a passing ghost to save you from this question game.

“Yes, but who should be?” He asks, leaning towards you, eyes staring intently into yours—if this is a joke, you’re not laughing. It’s true that while Draco is known for his intelligence, he often ranks third in classes with Hermione in first and you in second. You squint at the man in front of you—surely, he doesn’t want you to answer that, does he?

“What are you getting at, Draco?”

“You’re talented, (y/n), and I’m glad to beat you in any subject, but winning because you can’t make a simple amortentia? That’s embarrassing for all of us. Don’t misunderstand, (y/n). I’m going to beat you, but I’m going to do so because of my skill and not because of your incompetency.” You raise an eyebrow as you practice deep breathing. There he is: the smug, angry Draco you know so well. “Therefore, I’ll be tutoring you until you master this absolutely basic potion.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Malfoy, that I don’t want your help? That I haven’t been competing with you? That maybe my own studies are enough to focus on without having to worry about everyone else? Maybe, just maybe, my world doesn’t revolve around you and that one mistake doesn’t make me a failure? My textbook and I will do just fine without you—thank you very much.” You rant, ripping your arm away from his hand as you glare at the wizard in front of you. Potions genius or not, what gives him the right to talk to you like that? Draco glances at his now empty hand in disbelief before scanning your face, looking for an explanation—you’re probably one of the few people who have ever stood up to him.

“I….” He starts, his voice weak, but he soon clears his throat and stands up taller, making an effort to compose himself. “I will see you here tomorrow at the same time for our first lesson.” You cross your arms as you raise your eyebrow, challenging him. He can’t be serious. “Potions aren’t about textbooks: they’re about results—just like spells. You can’t focus on the steps: your only concern should be what you create. To make a proper amortentia, you have to imagine the person you love falling in love with you. You have to think about how they’d say your name with fondness….” Draco lists, closing his eyes for a moment as he smiles. “How their lips would feel when pressed against yours for the first time….” He continues, opening his eyes as he stares at your lips, his own mouth opening slightly as his eyes glaze over with a softness you’ve never seen—or perhaps just never noticed—before.

“Draco…?” You ask softly—all the anger you once felt vanishing at the sight of Draco so distracted—after a few moments of silence. He inhales sharply as if pulled back to reality as his posture stiffens and he clamps his mouth shut. Your curiosity keeps you staring, but Draco seems far too interested in looking anywhere other than you—could he be blushing?

“Tomorrow then.” He nods as he rushes past you up the stairs. “See you, (y/n).” He calls to your feet, still avoiding making eye contact as he soon disappears from your line of sight.

Standing in the dungeons a while longer, you stare at the wall as you try to process what just happened. He was angry with you—wasn’t he? He called you incompetent and said you embarrassed him—surely, he couldn’t be please with you. Then again, he did say you were talented and what he said when he spoke about amortentia—what he did—that couldn’t be described as negative, could it? Groaning, you run your hand over your face before exhaling and making your way up the stairs Draco sprinted to moments ago. As confusing as Draco could be, you knew one thing for sure: you’d have plenty to talk about with the Golden Trio.


	3. Trio Trouble

“He called you what?” Ron shouts, mouth ajar as he leaned across the table to hear you better.

“Ron, it’s a library.” You hush, looking around at the surrounding students and smiling apologetically at a few of them.

“I shouldn’t have you left you alone with him….” Hermione whispered, shaking her head as she stared down at History of Magic textbook and fiddled with her hands. 

“Hermione.” You call, gently resting your hand on her shoulder until she lifts her head to the side to look at you. “You have nothing to regret.” You affirm, as you look her in the eye, making sure she understands that you’re serious. “None of you do. Really, guys, it wasn’t that bad. He lectured me for a bit, but by the end he sort of…changed.” You explain, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you remember the way Draco spoke about amortentia. Quickly, you turn your gaze to your textbook and pretend to read a passage so your friends won’t guess the source of your smile.

“Wait. You aren’t seriously considering meeting him, are you?” Harry asks with the same contempt in his voice as Draco had when you mentioned Hermione. No matter how long you read your History of Magic textbook, you doubt you could find out whether Harry or Draco was the first to use that tone.

“Of course not.” You respond too quickly, forcing a laugh as you shake your head. “I’ll just….” You pause to think of an excuse, but use your hesitation to look for a quill so you don’t look so suspicious. “…Skip supper, whip up an amortentia, and leave it where we’re supposed to meet with a note saying I don’t need his help.”

The trio relaxes at your response and they soon turn back to studying without noticing you’re fiddling with your hands again. You know better than to show up in the dining hall this evening, choosing your friends’ enemy over what they think is right. Would it be so wrong to let Draco tutor me? Something about standing him up—whether or not he insulted you—makes you fidget. Unable to concentrate on studying, you gather your belongings and head for the exit.

“Sorry. Figure I’d get an early start on potion making. Get Fred and George to sneak me a snack.” You add, calling on the only two wizards in all of Hogwarts who wouldn’t get caught for stealing. “See you.” You call over your shoulder with a smile, hoping to calm your friends even though you’re the one who needs to be soothed. Nearly tripping over your own feet as your rush to dungeons, you shake your head at your own actions. Why can’t I just hate Draco too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and for the filler-y chapter, but the next one should have more Draco so that's something to look forward to...I guess? I don't know, but you're all seriously the best. This wouldn't exist without you so thank you!


	4. Food and Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been ages, but thanks for all the support. It really means a lot! Also, ooooh, fancy formatting!

            You squint as you drop the final ingredient into your cauldron only for the whole liquid to solidify into a brown blob that’s stronger than concrete. Sighing, you cast a spell to return all the ingredients into their original forms before dragging your hands over your face in frustration. That’s the sixth failed amortentia—and the least promising of them all. _Maybe I really do need help_.

            Just as you’re about to dice your first root, a new smell distracts you. Amidst the dust and dampness of the dungeons swirls the fresh scent of newly baked dinner rolls. _Wow, I really must be hungry._ You press your lips together as you glance at the doorway, wondering if the trio would mind if you popped upstairs for a snack. Before you can weigh the pros and cons, the door slams open as Draco Malfoy storms in, his hands filled with dinner rolls and his face overflowing with disdain.

            “Is dinner over already?” You ask, eyeing his food as you lick your lips, but when you rip your eyes away from the rolls to glance at Draco’s face, you quickly shut your mouth and revert to looking at the ingredients.

            “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Draco dares as he dumps all the bread rolls onto the table, knocking a vial in the process, which you catch mere seconds before it would have shattered on the ground. The dungeon is silent other than the distant dripping of water against the walls and the short, warm puff of Draco’s breath against your neck. You hadn’t realised how close you are to Draco and whether it be the hunger, the cold, or your breath syncing with his, your skin prickles into goose bumps. You close your eyes and inhale slowly as you stand back up and place the vial to a safer place on the counter. Turning back to face Draco, you’re mere inches from his face, the scent of candle wax from the dining hall dripping from his hair.

            “Let’s not waste any more vials, Draco. If you something to say, get on with it.” You snap, daring yourself to be the last to break eye contact this time. His eyes flicker from your left eye, to your right then to your lips where he pauses to swallow. Mere inches away from each other, you can’t help but notice his pale hair fall in front of his face and you want nothing more to swipe it aside. Draco clears his throat and stiffens as he looks at his shoes, his hair swooping further in front of his face. There really must be something off about the lighting because there’s no way Draco Malfoy blush again—if he ever did, that is.

            “Right. Why don’t you ask that Weasley boy you’re so found of what I have to say?” Draco scowls, mentioning Ron as if he were a fly in his amortentia potion.

            “Draco, I don’t have time for riddles….” You sigh as you turn away from Draco and start slicing the first ingredient again.

            “Why? Are you too busy scheming against me? Did you think I wouldn’t come find you after your little friends kept berating me with your plans to one-up me? After they ridiculed me in front of everyone? After I did all this to help you?” He shouts, motioning to the dungeon before pausing, and you swear for a moment you catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. The moment passes just as quickly as it came when he sighs and presses his palms against his temples. “You didn’t even try.” He whispers, shaking his head, and looking down. “After all this time in the dungeons, you didn’t even try to make an amortentia. You thought I was so easy to use—to fool—that you put off making your potion until the last minute.”

            “Draco.” You whisper, waiting for his reaction, but when he remains still, you grab his arm that’s blocking his face until he looks at you. “Draco, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just didn’t want to be in your debt or to have to update my friends every time we meet only for them to gossip about you later.” You confess, your eyes darting across his face, trying to find a sign that he understands—forgives you, even. To your dismay, hints of the hurt that made you explain as much as you have still lurk in his eyes. As he presses his lips together you move your grasp from his wrist to his hand, hoping that he’ll understand you’re sincere.

            “As for the amortentia,” you start, grabbing your wand and swirling loosely over your cauldron until it shows your previous concoction. “I’ve tried. A lot.” You insist, moving your wand to show your other putrid potions. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m following the textbook perfectly: I’m preparing the ingredients properly, the order’s—well, in order, and everything still turns out terribly. Is there something the textbook’s not telling me? What am I missing?” You scream, shaking your hand free from his as you drop you head into your palms, closing your eyes. “Why can’t I just get this right? What’s wrong with me?”

            There’s a silence that follows. Nothing but the trickling of water from the dungeon walls, your own hurting head, and starving stomach make any noise. _Maybe Draco left._ _Maybe he took his dinner rolls and ran to the slytherin commons to celebrate my breakdown._ _Why wouldn’t he?_ Then, a whisper so faint you fear it might be passing ghost brings you back to the room as someone guides you hand away from you face. The person cupping your hand is warm, but the object in your hand is warmer. Slowly, you peek at your hand then at the person in front of you only to find Draco giving you a dinner roll.

            “Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Draco nods, his eyes darting across your face as he grabs and bites a nearby dinner roll. “You’re just missing an ingredient.” He adds, the corners off his mouth pulling into a soft smile as he looks down at his bread.

            “And what’s that?” You ask, leaning towards him with eager eyes as you grip your bread roll with both hands.

            “Love.” He responds—barely louder than a whisper—as he takes another bite of his bread. You squint as you try to process what he just said. _Is he making fun of me?_ After a moment of contemplative silence, Draco looks up to see your reaction and adds quickly. “No, it’s okay. A lot of people are missing that ingredient—I know I was until….” Draco’s eyes flash over you for a second before he coughs and looks away. “Anyways, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find it soon enough—and I’ll be here to help.”

            “You’d do that for me?” You ask, a soft smile working its way across your face as you stare at the boy in front of you—maybe he’s not as bad as everyone says. In fact, in the dark dungeon light and buttered bread scent, you might even say Draco Malfoy—prince of Slytherin and king of potions—is better than his reputation.

            “Knock, knock.” A voice calls from beyond the door, causing both you and Draco to stiffen.

            “Room service.” Another voice hollers as the door slams open and in come the Weasley twins with a platter of desserts.

            “We heard you needed a house call.” Fred explains as he nabs the platter from his twin and sets it on a nearby table before seeing the pile of bread rolls. “Are we interrupting something?” Fred asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks to his twin with a goofy grin.

            “Maybe a little…” George looks around the room and smiles as both he and his twin join you in facing Draco while they squish against your shoulders. “Dungeon-lit dinner?” Draco, eyes wide, chokes on his dinner roll as Fred and George nudge your shoulders while wiggling their eyebrows.

            “The only thing you’re interrupting is your father’s peace of mind. Seriously: Room service and house calls? You know that those are down by two completely different professions, right?” You tease as you stand on your tippy-toes to sling your arms around either boy’s shoulders. “And unless you want me telling McGonagall that I outlined nearly all your papers for Muggle Studies, I suggest you two get a move on before Filch catches you.”

            “You wouldn’t.” Both twins snap in unison, George with eyes wide in fear while Fred glares suspiciously.

            “I don’t know.” You reply in a singsong voice as you sway to Draco’s side and raise an eyebrow at the twins. “Gryffindors are doing a little _too_ well this year in Quidditch, wouldn’t you say, Draco?” You ask, turning to your potions partner with a playful grin and he responds simply by blinking as if trying to process what’s happening. “It’d be a shame if something were to happen to the team’s star beaters, don’t you think. Besides, you two are messing with my studies—you should know better.”

            “You really are a slytherin, Y/N.” Fred retorts, faking a shiver as he and his brother smile as head towards the dungeon doors.

            “Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring the leftover desserts next study session—and don’t forget to bring your broomsticks. I’ve got a new plant from herbology that should help with durability that will be fully functioning by your next match.” You call as the two sneak off to the nearest secret passage and you smile as you shake your head. After all the year end family feasts with the Weasleys and Golden Trio, those boys are just as much as family to you as your blood relatives. Sighing, you scoop up a nearby cupcake when you sense someone watching you. Concerned—and mid-bite—you turn to see Draco hasn’t stopped staring at you since you asked him his opinion on Quidditch.

            “What?” You ask, your eyes squinting as you try to study Draco’s expression. _Is there icing on my face?_   You continue to stare at him until his gaze drops to his shoes and the edges of his mouth are pulled into a soft smile.

            “Nothing.” He replies quietly. “It’s just you—there’s so much more to you than I thought.” He adds simply to which you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. When he doesn’t move for the next few minutes and you finish your cupcake, you shrug and grab your wand, casting a shrinking spell on the food and tray so you can stow them in your vials on your way back to the commons.

            “Well, we should get going—Filch really does make his rounds around now, you know.” You add, waiting for Draco to react but he merely nods and keeps his head focused on his shoes. You squint at him, wondering if you’re somehow the cause of his sudden silence when you notice him moving toward the door. _He’s probably just tired._ Shrugging, you set your vials down to get a better grip on them when Draco swoops in to grab them, a polite yet kind smile flashing across his face before he speeds towards the exit. _Well, that was weird. It’s probably nothing though—he just didn’t want to be seen with you: that’s all. I mean, if that’s not the reason he choked on his bread at the idea of us together and all this avoiding eye contact nonsense—then what could it be?_


	5. Pansy Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, it's been forever! Hopefully this is more of the direction you were expecting the story to go. As always, thanks for all the support! It really means a lot! <3  
> ~ Ray

            Ever since your run-in with Fred and George, Draco all but avoids you—looking away as soon as you make eye contact, taking unnecessary detours, and going back to the commons at ridiculous hours. Surely, this has nothing to do with you—after all, one incomplete tutoring session couldn’t be enough to cause this erratic behaviour. Still, you bit your thumb as you exited your transfiguration class, not noticing the silence that surrounded you. Not noticing the dozens of sets of eyes that fell upon you whilst one glaring and fast approaching set of eyes strode towards you. Just as you started to reassure yourself that Draco’s behaviour had nothing to do with you, your back slammed hard against the stonewall and your feet dangled in the air while someone’s hands pinned you in place by your collar.

            “What did you do to Draco, (y/n)?” The voice accuses with air so hot and close that you shut your eyes before you can identify who this person is. Nearby, the onlookers whisper amongst one another, wondering if they should intervene. You kick your legs helplessly, hoping to find a holding place against the wall when you fell to the ground with a hard thud. The crowd’s whispers grow louder as you instinctively draw your wand against your opponent.

            “Pansy?” You ask, your head tilted as you slowly lower your wand. “Pansy Parkinson?” Pansy—a fellow slytherin—sits on the ground, clutching her knee as she stares at you in horror. You turn to the crowd then back to Pansy, hoping for some sort of explanation as to why she attacked you. “Um…need a hand?” You ask as you tuck away your wand and step towards Pansy.

            “Don’t come any closer, (y/n).” Pansy snarls and you raise your hands to show her you don’t want to hurt her as you stand still. “You’re the reason he’s like this. You should see him now: refusing to taunt the first years, not turning around talking portraits, and you should see him in Potions. You wouldn’t know because he sits further back, but he never stops staring at you. He won’t even look at me the same way.” Pansy explains with a shake of her head as she looks up to you, sad, scared, and hoping for an answer, but you don’t have one.

            “Who cares how he looks at you? You weren’t dating. Who’d want to date him anyways?” A group of bystanders heckle and only stop their exclamations when Pansy stands and growls at you.

            “What do you think, (y/n)? Do you think you can just break Draco and get away with it? You think you can just toy with him? You think you can just seduce him?” Pansy spits as she stomps towards you, hands curling into fists rather than around her wand. You take a few cautious steps back, your hand hovering over your wand when the crowd stops whispering and everyone—including Pansy—stares behind you.

            “Seduce me?” Draco purrs so closely behind you that your body drops in temperature. You can hear the curl of a smile in his voice without having to turn around and just like Pansy and everyone watching, you know that means trouble. “Is that what you think, Parkinson?” Draco asks, dangerously calmly before spitting out her last name, making Pansy flinch. His approaching footsteps are the only noise nearby as everyone holds their breath: waiting to see what Draco does next. _I have to do something._ Pansy may not always be the nicest but most slytherins didn’t have the best reputations and besides, this was all just a misunderstanding, right? Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes for a second before striding to stand in front of Pansy to block her.

            “Draco, how long was you standing there?” You ask with a forced smile and voice that’s sounds falsely chipper—even to your own ears. Glancing quickly back to gauge Pansy’s reaction, you face Draco again, this time your smile—no matter how small—feels real. _This is the right thing to do. If the golden trio can survive being on his bad side for so many years, I can handle it too._

            “Long enough.” He answers, pointedly looking to the wall where Pansy pinned you. You look down and swallow as you try to think of a rebuttal, but you come up with nothing. _Why does he care?_ Draco isn’t exactly known for being a justice crusader so what changed? Is he scared for his reputation? Maybe he’s angry at Pansy? If not that then what? You raise you head, your eyes darting across his face as you search for an answer. He’s angry—that’s for sure—but there’s also concern and something you can’t pinpoint.

            “Why do you care, Malfoy?” A bystander shouts and Draco clenches his teeth, glaring, but staring at you as if trying to come to a decision—or at the very least, wondering whether he should calm down. _What is going on here?_ You heard stories from The Golden Trio about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but this is ridiculous. Tilting your head to the side, your eyebrows pull together in concern and this time: it’s Draco who smiles at you.

            “Because…” Draco starts, projecting his voice for everyone to hear as he takes long strides towards you and you blink, unsure of what he plans on doing. “Pansy was right.” He announces, his smile now beaming as he stands mere inches from you. The crowd explodes with gossip but you’re too busy searching Draco’s face for an answer. His hair is in his face and his clothes are mussed—has he been sleeping okay? No wonder he was so quick to get angry: the poor guy’s a mess. Even so, you doubt you’ve ever seen him happier than he is right now, breathing in sync with you, and surrounded by strangers.

            “Hey, Draco….” You say softly so only he can hear you. You want to ask if he’s okay, why he’s been avoiding you, if he was serious about what he said or if he was trying to defuse the situation, but he looks so happy that you don’t want to corrupt this moment for him. So, rather than say anything, you smile and his eyes dilate. Somewhere between all the crowd’s gossip, Draco holds your hand loosely enough for you to get away if you want to but tight enough for you to know he cares. Your smile grows as you go to look down at your folded hands, but just as your head starts to drop, Draco’s other hand lightly lifts your chin.

            He smiles at you knowingly as his lips part slightly and your heartbeat quickens. Looking from his left eye, to his right, and finally to his lips, you smile as you close your eyes. A gentle warmth presses against your lips and extends throughout your whole body. If you could smile while kissing him without changing how this feels, you would. The soft warmth mixes with bouts of strength and surety as he moves his hand from under your chin to caress your face. Your lift your free hand to grab his hair and you’re amazed at how soft it is—at how soft he is. This continues for a few more moments, each of you mixing different levels of strength and emotions into each passing second—every one better than the last. Slowly, Draco rubs a circle with his thumb against your cheek before placing it onto your joined hands and you free your hand from his hair to do the same. The two of you pull apart, holding each other’s hands as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, with that small crooked smile you know so well, Draco nods and you nod back.

            “We need to talk.” Draco says, looking about as dazed and please as you feel. Nodding slowly, you smile again, freeing one of your hands from the pile as you turn to guide him elsewhere. Looking away from Draco, you notice the crowd has all eyes, ears, and shocked expressions on you and out of the corner of your eye, you notice Draco’s cheeks reddening as he looks down. Smiling gently at Draco, you step forward and the crowd automatically makes an entranceway for the pair of you. Looking forward, you use your thumb to rub a circle against Draco’s hand as you walk and out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn to your hands in surprise, look at you with admiration then lift his head and continue onwards with a smile.


	6. Staring Sessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys! I'll try not to leave in suspense for so long next time. Gee whiz!

Glancing back and forth between your Potions textbook and your scroll, you transcribe a recipe for hair regrowth when Professor Snape pauses his lecture to look down at your work. Without a word, you grab one of the scrolls you set aside, opening it, and pointing to the notes you wrote for this lecture ahead of time. Being friends with Hermione Granger meant a lot of trips to the library and when you’re ahead of homework and studying, you have a tendency to read ahead—in this case, several weeks ahead. Severus scans a few sentences, his lips twitching into a smile before nodding at you and carrying on with his lesson. The first time he noticed you weren’t taking notes on his current lesson, he tried to trick you with a question that he hadn’t taught to the class yet. When you answered that question and posed a few of your own, he knew better than to challenge you, which might be why he’s so disappointed when you failed at creating an amortentia—outsmarting Snape means there’s a certain standard you’re expected to uphold.

“Mr. Malfoy, if my lesson is boring you then perhaps you’d care to tell the class the next ingredient in this blister-swelling potion?” Snape challenges, which must mean the rest of the class is behaving especially well—it’s not like the Draco “Potions Master” Malfoy would slack off in his favourite class. “Unless you find the back of (y/n)’s head to be more interesting.” You drop your quill and turn to see your tutor—terrified—while his face darts to his potion partner who shrugs in response. _Figures._

“Dittany, sir…?” Draco answers and you bite your lip as a few students giggle and Snape’s face darkens with disappointment. Though he has no qualms with punishing other houses, Professor Snape is just as hurt as any Slytherin when points are docked—especially when a top pupil’s to blame. Draco looks to you, hoping for some sort of confirmation that he’s right but when he notices your expression, his face pales and the nearby giggles turn to all-out laughter. You close your eyes, breathe deeply then shove all your supplies off your desk, stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Sorry.” You announce to the class as you withdraw your wand, glaring pointedly at the snickering students whose eyes widen before they return their focus to their textbooks. “I was looking for my toothache curing potion notes when…well, that happened.” You lie as you swoop all your supplies back into their spots in one motion of your wand. Draco’s eyes dart across your face, looking for an explanation while Snape raises an eyebrow—both of them knowing you’d sooner lose your limbs than your notes.

“Sir….” You call to Snape as you lean against your desk, snatch this lesson’s notes and hide them in your hand before walking towards Snape, pausing next to Draco’s desk and passing Malfoy your notes. “Did you know that the blister-swelling potion doesn’t necessarily need any ingredients after that step? You could always charm the cauldron to self-regulate its temperature, which would take away the need for the next ingredient. In other words….” You pause, turning to Malfoy with a pointed glance at the notes you set in front of Malfoy before continuing. “You meant “didn’t add any” instead of dittany, right, Draco?”

You stare at Professor Snape, waiting for him to stop your blatant excuses, but instead, the corners of his lips twitch upwards and he nods at you once more before turning to Draco for an answer. You sigh in relief as you look back to your desk, wondering if it’d be all right for you to return to your seat when you notice your lab partner staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouthed smile. You raise an eyebrow at your partner, hoping for a silent explanation, but when a few seconds pass, you turn to face Draco. Draco Malfoy has the best grades in Potions for a reason—other than being Snape’s favourite of course—so when Draco ignores Snape to stare at you in open-mouthed silence, your fists tighten in worry.

“Draco…?” You ask softly, your eyes darting across his face for some sort of explanation as you lean towards him. _He’d tell me if something were wrong, wouldn’t he?_ Maybe you were too proud trying to intervene, maybe you’ve been friends with the trio too long not to try to save someone, or maybe your inner Slytherin just had enough with the nearby snickering. No matter the reason, you wait for your potions tutor to respond, but when he doesn’t you take a tentative step closer and gently touch his arm. “Are you okay?” The moment you touch, Draco’s eyes widen as he looks up at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips then to your hand on his arm. He isn’t mad, is he? Maybe you really should’ve just sat down while you had the chance. That might be why your lab partner was so surprised: no one touches Draco Malfoy—not even a fellow slytherin.

“Excuse me, dear?” Draco asks as if he didn’t hear you as he slowly blinks up at you with a kind smile. Without thinking, you return the smile and Draco’s smile widens a bit as puts his hand over yours, holding you to his arm. In that moment, your heartbeat quickens and you wonder if it’s really because you’re worried about him or if it’s something more. Before you have time to think about it, someone clears their throat and your hand tightens around his arm, making Draco’s eyes lower in concern. The throat clearing turns to whispering and before you know it, a few Ravenclaws and far too many Gryffindors are pointing at the two of you as they exchange stories.

“Professor.” You start although it comes out more as a squeak. Shaking your head, you rip your hand away as you turn to face Snape. “Judging by his use of the word “dear”, it seems Mr. Malfoy isn’t feeling well. Might I escort him to see Madam Pomfrey?” You ask, barely making eye contact with your professor as every second that passes screams at you to run before you become even more embarrassed. Sure, your heart is jumping so high it wouldn’t need a broom in a quidditch match and yeah, maybe your cheeks are growing redder than Gryffindor’s banner, but what’s that have to do with Draco? Honestly, what business would the prince of Slytherin have calling you a petname? He must be sick or tired—or maybe even messing with you—because that soft gaze of his couldn’t have been meant for you. The trust in his tone must have been a fluke—just like your reaction because there’s no way you like Draco Malfoy and more importantly, there’s no way he could like you.

As you stand, staring at the door, clenching and unclenching your fists, a soft yet firm hand grabs hold of yours. Instinctively squeezing both your hands, you look up to find Draco pulling you towards the door with a sympathetic smile. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you realize the lesson is already underway and by the time you look forward, you’re already in the dungeon hallway. Exhaling for the first time in what feels like hours, you pause to regulate your breathing only to feel a comforting squeeze against one of your hands.

“Thanks.” You whisper as you look at the boy in front of you with hair swooping in front of his eyes. Slowly, you reach out and brush aside the silky strands as you gently touch his forehead before sharing a small smile. His temperature’s about as normal as it can get in a dungeon, but if he were not sick then why else would he call you a petname? Swallowing, you drop your gaze as you try to formulate your thoughts. “You’re…um…we’re….”

“(Y/N). He calls to you barely louder than a whisper as he steps towards you, closing what little gap was left between you, making you lift your gaze. “You don’t look very good. Are you feeling okay?” He asks; this time he’s the one to check your temperature and at the mere touch of his hand against your forehead, you feel heat flooding to your face. His eyes drop to yours as he waits for an answer. His breaths dance across your face, his silvery apple scent spreads over your entire body, and—you look down to make sure—his hand is still firmly holding yours. As you slowly looking up, your head brushes against his chest and Draco doesn’t seem to notice just how close you are as his eyes dart across your face with concern. That’s when it hits you. What was once Draco’s white shirt is now the dungeon walls and even they are disappearing fast as your head hits you like the Hogwarts Express and your stomach lurches from the impact. Somewhere in the distance, there’s a strong slam of skin crashing against your back before your vision turns to black and your thoughts follow suit.


	7. Hospital Hullabaloo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! There have been a lot of requests for a lot of different cameos so that's mostly what this chapter is--that and a little bit of an explanation--but don't worry, next chapter's more plot-based and it's where we'll start heading back to the potion-making plot. I know I don't update very often, but to everyone who's still reading, commenting, and leaving kudos: thank you--it means so much to me and this story would have been abandoned without you.

Your eyelids flutter as you wake to the sound of hushed arguing from familiar voices. Judging by the overwhelming smell of soap and stiff sheets, you’re not in the dungeons anymore, which you’re not sure is a bad thing, but it definitely isn’t good. Waking up in a new place with no recollection of how you got there? Yeah, that’s a sure-fire way to get a howler from home—or worse. Even though the voices around you are familiar, you slowly lower your hand to check if your wand is where you left. All right, there are people you know and you still have some of your belongings—not too bad, but could be better. Raising your hand behind you to help lift yourself up, you groan as a wave of throbbing pain washes over your head, making you fall back onto a propped-up pillow.

“Hush, Ronald. Can’t you see Y/N’s sleeping? Madame Pomfrey said we’d have to leave if we cause a disturbance.” Hermione warns in a whisper.

“Us causing a disturbance? How could we with Malfoy being her warden? We’re lucky we even got this much time alone with Y/N.” Harry snaps as you blink your eyes open—only to find the familiar faces of Hermione and Luna on your left with Harry, Ron, and Ginny on your right. The moment you open your eyes, Luna exclaims a soft “oh” to which you smile while the rest of your friends continue their conversation.

“Yeah, what’s his problem anyways? Barging into the hospital wing carrying Y/N like his bride. Just who does he think he is?” Ron retorts, glaring at the memory.

“You don’t think Malfoy did this, did you?” Ginny nearly growls as she leans protectively over you and angles herself to face her brother.

“Madame Pomfrey explained—” Hermione starts when Ron interrupts her to continue his rant.

“And what was with his secrecy? We wouldn’t have even known where Y/N was if Fred and George hadn’t seen her on their way back from a secret tunnel. Not to mention all the weird rumours about the two of them dating. I think he’s up to something.” Ron speculates while Luna tries yet again to notify the group that you’re awake and now eavesdropping. With a grunt, you count in your head to mentally prepare yourself as you move your hands again to sit up.

“What—like noticing when I wake up?” You joke weakly as you wince at the new flood of pain that rushes to your head. Where is Madame Pomfrey when you need her? Aside from Luna, all your friends turn to you with varying degrees of surprise. Hermione adjusts your pillow while Harry and Ron exchange guilty glances, making you laugh

“How long have you been awake?” Ginny asks, rushing over to help you sit upright as Luna tosses you a knowing smile. You grunt through the pain as you lean against Ginny’s arm until you’re sitting clearly enough to see Ron nudge Harry. You raise an eyebrow at them, making Harry cough and all your friends to look his way.

“Sorry about talking badly about Malfoy.” Harry grumbles as he stares down at your bed and toys with the hospital sheets in front of him. “Even though he can be a complete prick sometimes and….” Before Harry can continue on his tirade, Hermione shoots him a glare, making Harry clear his throat again. “What matters is that you’re happy and if he makes you feel that way then maybe….”

“What are you talking about?” You interrupt, adjusting yourself to be closer to your friends, making all of them stare at you in confusion. “Me and Malfoy? Makes me feel a certain way? Are we sure that I’m the one that’s sick here?”

“Y/N….” Hermione starts cautiously as she leans towards you, treating you like the reason you’re in the hospital wing is because of a fit of amnesia. Speaking of which, why are you in the hospital wing? “We al know you and Draco are…well….”

“Kissing. It’s all anyone is talking about.” Luna chimes in with a congratulatory smile as the rest of your friends mumble their agreements. Wait, what? You’re a high-achieving Slytherin who is friends with the trio and kind to all houses: it’s not like you haven’t been the center of gossip before, but this? Dating Draco Malfoy? As flattering as it may be, that’s the kind of rumour that could get you in trouble—maybe it already has.

“Draco is just teaching me how to make an amortentia.” You declare to which your friends respond with relief, disappointment, and mostly confusion. “Listen, okay, yes, we kissed and yes, maybe it was pretty fun….” You try to explain with your hands raised as your friends stare at you, unblinking and you try to prevent yourself from blushing. “That’s it though. We talked and he mostly did it because he was annoyed at Pansy for making a scene. The only feelings he has for me are competitive.”

“Yeah, because when I want to beat Seamus at Wizard Chess, I kiss him.” Ron scoffs as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Hermione shoots him another glare to which Ron stares at the door in silent annoyance.

“Did he specifically say he didn’t have feelings for you?” Hermione inquires softly as she focuses on you again, using the same tone of voice she did when you both fought through a difficult Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. Come to think of, most of your interactions with Draco these days are difficult to decipher: potion help is one thing, but kissing and pet names.

“No, I did most of the talking. Draco was actually pretty quiet about the whole thing.” You squint as you question his behaviour for the first time. “Come to think of it, he did run off fairly quickly, but I guess he was pretty worked up over what happened—we both were.” Ginny and Hermione stare at each other questioningly as Luna simply nods and the boys stare at you, tight-lipped. Why was Draco—the king of teasing and wit-related bullying—so speechless then? Why did he look so downtrodden when you suggested you both forget the kiss ever happened? More importantly, why do you care?

“Do you have feelings for him?” Ginny asks, breaking the silence and in that moment, you swear you can hear everyone in the room hold their breaths. You snap your head to face Ginny, feeling as guilty as a kid caught eyeing chocolate frogs right before dinner. That’s ridiculous though: you didn’t do anything wrong and Draco Malfoy isn’t exactly sweet—except for when he helps you with potions and when he stands up for you and…. Okay, maybe he is sweet to you—not to mention attractive—but that doesn’t mean you like him, does it?

“I….” You start and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t know what you’re going to say. Maybe that’s for the best: maybe expressing your feelings for Draco—if you have them to begin with—will help you more than any medicine ever could. Maybe you’re not ready to vanquish that kind of control and maybe you’re not ready for whatever answer your heart will give. What you do know though is your friends’ faces are starting to pale and if you don’t say something soon, they might be admitted to the hospital wing as well. “I….” You start again, smiling this time as you look beyond your friends and your hospital bed out into the corridor, which is when you become paler than any of your friends. Just outside the doorway staring back at you is none other than Draco Malfoy himself and silly as it may seem, the way his eyes dart over your face—studying you—makes you wonder if he heard your entire conversation.

Before you can finish your sentence, Draco strides into the room, pushing past Madame Pomfrey and ends up by towering over your bed. In your peripheral vision, your friends exchange wary glances as they look to Draco for an explanation but both you and Draco are far too busy staring at each other to act. His chest falls as tiny huffs of breath flee from his lips and while he regains his breath, you lose yours. If looks could kill, his would be classified as an incurable curse. Staring into your eyes with layers of worry, urgency, danger, and something primal you can’t identify. Whatever it is, your lips tingle in response as memories of his kiss envelop you like Draco’s arms did when you fainted. You lean forward despite your body’s stinging protests and Draco’s hand presses against your blankets as he shifts his weight onto the bed, never breaking eye contact.

Nearby, someone coughs and your posture stiffens, causing both you and Draco to look away. Sharp pains sting your head and you have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from whimpering. You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on breathing, trying your best not to worry your friends as you wait out this wave of pain. _Again, where is Madame Pomfrey when you need her?_

“I thought I told you, there will be no—” An authoritative voice rants as footsteps draw nearer, but you’re more worried about this wave of pain that’s turning out to be more of a tsunami than a tide. “Miss Y/N is awake?” She asks shrilly, her footsteps storming away and it isn’t until your bed creaks that you open your eyes. Only a ruler’s distance away from your face is Madame Pomfrey holding a vial of what looks like a mix between mouldy coffee and stale breadcrumbs. Why does Madame Pomfrey have to be here when you need her? Squinting at the mixture, you review your potions’ notes in your head, hoping to identify the mix, but Madame Pomfrey doesn’t have the time or patience for your study session. Without a second’s warning, she shoves the vial to your mouth as she grunts at you to tilt your head back. The moment you swallow the concoction, your hands release their grip on your sheets as your mind calms enough for you to look at the people surrounding your bed who stared at your with varying degrees of worry. You blink slowly as a wide and lazy smile overpowers your face—what did you just take?

“I thought I gave you all specific instructions to notify me the moment she wakes up.” Madame Pomfrey shouts, making everyone flinch and Hermione open her mouth to explain when Madame Pomfrey stops her. “Do you know how much pain she must have endured? Thanks to a certain student, Y/N was exposed to a migraine potion twelve times the suggested strength. It’s a wonder she’s even functioning right now and you have the audacity to deny her treatment?” Wait, what was that about a certain student?

“Who?” You drawl, blinking slowly as you fight back the urge to giggle—just what did she give you? Luna shares a shy smile with you before opening her mouth to answer when Madame Pomfrey interrupts.

“Look: now’s she’s struggling to remember who she is.” Madame Pomfrey growls at your friends before crouching to be at your eye level and switching to a softer tone. “Your name’s Y/N, sweetie, and you’re in the hospital wing, but you should be fine in a couple days.” Standing, she turns to your friends and judging by their reactions, she’s glaring at them like she’s about to make them her next patients. “Y/N was given five times the usual dose of that particular potion—one that already causes some unseemly side effects some of which include: intense nausea, migraines, dizziness, and….”

“Who?” You interrupt, unsure of how much of Madame Pomfrey’s speech you’d be able to hear given how heavy your eyelids feel. Your voice came out embarrassingly singsong and if you weren’t distracted by how your once heavy head now feels as though it’s capable of flying higher than your broomstick, you’d say something more and hopefully less melodic. The lighter your head feels, the heavier your eyelids become and it’s a wonder you hear Luna’s answer when you’re fading into dreamland, but you do and it’s enough to turn your dreams into a nightmare.

“Pansy Parkinson.”


End file.
